


Spirit Children

by Consarn



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon
Genre: Action/Adventure, Death, Evil Corporations, Family, Fantasy, Gen, Love, M/M, Punishment, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9566513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Consarn/pseuds/Consarn
Summary: Mystery Dungeons are no longer. In their place are Punishments that ravage the countryside unless sated by sacrifice. Tales both good and bad meet in one village. From the moment of their entangling, a spark of hope is struck, beginning a story with villains and heroes of a single principle: when one is being punished, they will do anything to get out. PMD AU.





	1. Chapter 1

" _Every beloved object is the center point of a paradise."_

~Novalis

* * *

A pageant of muddied creatures sat along a snowbank. Those who had tails wagged them and the rumbling in all their stomachs threatened to topple the slop, ruining their perch. In times like these—when Denmother used their allowance on shampoo instead of red meat—the carnivores in their wayward pack had it worst, pining for blood.

Pokémon of Sixburrow moved by on business, the bank barren of gifts. A poochyena spotted a zigzagoon hurrying by and skidded down the bank, placing a paw on its hindquarters. Before a word could be spoken, the adult spun and pinned the child. Slaps sounded off as the pup's head bounced between paw and snow, the adult cuffed the oprhan eight times before his fury wore off. With nothing said, the zigzagoon carried on. The damned creature mouthed his apology as he dashed down the path.

Many of the children barked from their spots but one, a charmander, slid down toward to help. He took care to keep his tail-fire from dragging in the wet.

"Aiyee," he said. "I can't believe it. Are you okay?"

"I'll get us food," the poochyena swore. "It's okay."

"You came onto his flank. But I can't believe he started hitting you."

Blood behind the poochyena's ear left a red rivulet. It drained into a paw print impressed in the trail.

"Excuse me," a lillipup asked. "Bleak, Aiyee."

Bleak looked up, holding his tail in consternation. "Did you see what Juk did?" Juk, the zigzagoon. They knew the names of everyone who used the main path, and when (and if) they were willing to give, which made Juk's reaction all the more shocking. "We need to tell on him. He made Aiyee bleed."

"You're breaking our row. We won't get money with you two down there. Den-momma said we need to be in a row so they have to _really_ look."

 _You won't get much food today anyhow_ , Bleak thought. He snatched up the scruff of Aiyee's neck and led him away.

They marched over to the nearby inn's backside. The timber gave off warmth. Bleak petted the foolish dog, one sibling to another he whispered choice advice:

"I figured out why everything feels awful. Aiyee, we need to be careful who we talk to today."

Aiyee perked up his ears. "Hm? I want to talk to everyone. I love visiting the town, it's so cool to see grownups working."

"You see, the thing is, none of them are working. They're pacing around. Waiting."

Aiyee cocked his head.

"Our denmother buying beauty supplies to impress a male. The anger. No one giving us gifts." Bleak clutched his tail. "Someone is getting Punished soon. If I had to guess, the Punishers are already here to decide who. And because we're too young to be chosen..." undue hate came to mind. Eight cuffs worth.

Only one thing in that conversation broke through to Aiyee. He dove into Bleak's lap, shaking. "Oh, no. I don't want to see another friend taken away."

"Even the _friend_ who hit you?"

A silent beat. "Don't be awful about Juk. I _did_ startle him."

"I couldn't keep a straight face if they picked Juk. He used to be nice, but now he's no different from the rest, acting like we've wronged him. If he is so afraid of Punishment maybe he should kill his parents. Then he can join our begging row!" The inn received a fresh claw-mark. Bleak considered scratching it again. "We used to play tag together last spring, and yet I hate him now!"

The ball of unkempt fur on his lap wiggled. Aiyee squinted his eyes. A smile showed on his muzzle. The sun rose over a cloud, and in the next moment, they happened to be standing in quite the sunny place.

Bleak let out a shuddering sigh. "Sorry."

"You're so grumpy when you haven't eaten," Aiyee said. "It's good to let all the bad ideas out. Like a big burp."

"My ranting doesn't leave a good smell, does it?" Bleak grinned. "None of this matters anyway." He rummaged through his makeshift bag and pulled out a knife. Copper, intricately textured to have tiny grooves that felt like sandpaper. It bore a blade no longer than Bleak's fangs. "With this as our key, I'll get us out of here to a place where no Punishers live."

"Your hobby knife?" Aiyee asked, yawning. "Watch out, pokémon might see it."

Bleak jolted and hid the knife again. "R-Right. I'm getting better at carving. Soon, I'll be able to sell my work. Enough to buy our way out."

"Where will we go?"

"Just for you... _b_ _ack in time_."

Aiyee chuckled and wiggled again. "Back a long time ago," he said, almost in a trance, "there were no Punishments. There were Mystery Dungeons, and in all the fables they shone as places of adventure and treasure. Pokémon didn't die when they entered. They had so much fun and learned so many things."

These were the lines Bleak recited to him, again and again, from their book of fables. On nights following days like this, when the poochyena had a bad run-in. On nights following days where nothing happened. Even those days which went well. Behind the dog's lids a scene played. Both of them traveling, like heroes in the fables, across the Hidden Valley to the Tower of Time. And there, using their tiny paws and claws to turn back the gears.

"Now that I'm old enough," Aiyee whispered, "I want to go back to when my mom was around. Because now I know what to say to her… I'm tired..." and with that, he nodded off.

"I love you, brother," Bleak said.

He looked to the other orphans: despite the tension in the air, meager offerings of both food and money lined the bank. The lillipup from before—named Trixie—tried to paw a shining coin and ended up spilling down the hill. The charmander's tail-fire grew an inch enjoying the scene of her trying to climb up.

A throb coursed through the entire inn. A door slammed shut so hard, the entire building carried the force.

"I am commander Allworthy, and I shall know issue Sixburrow's Punishment!" A voice roared.

The orphans pricked their ears towards the commotion, but then saw the crowd of villagers who shambled towards the voice. They turned to face their new haul.

 _No, don't talk to them,_ Bleak thought. Too. They asked gleefully for gifts.

Several grownups broke from the herd, snapping teeth at the children.

"Shits!" yelled one angry voice of many. A large part of the group rallied around the insult.

A flaaffy named Zappa, owner of Sixburrow's bakery, caught Trixie by the midsection as she climbed the bank. The lillipup's tail seemed to wag with curiosity, just moments before she was hefted into the air and slammed square in the middle of the mob. A few hind legs came her way. She howled and curled in, to protect her head from the blows. She could walk out, but it was too much to process and Bleak knew it. They might trample her and, in the commotion, find no one to blame for it.

A linoone broke into the crowd to retrieve her. Then, another rendition of himself, except with a brown belly instead of cream, reprimanded the flaaffy.

"Want to take your anger out," Brown-belly said, "try it on someone who has some of their own to trade, huh?" Zappa brayed and refused the offer.

"You get your siblings away from the inn, okay?" said Cream-belly to Trixie. At once, all the children scampered away, some still missing the danger and assuming it was play-time.

The linoone both had tell-tale guards on their shoulders. Made of oily, green leather. _Punishers._ They wouldn't be distinctive at all if not for the decorations. They weren't with the group yelling at the door. They kept the peace as villagers funneled into the square.

"Come on," Trixie yelped at him. "We gotta go home, I'm scared!"

Bleak slid Aiyee off of his lap. His tail-fire was an inch higher a moment ago, and it grew two inches higher, starting to tinge orange at the edges. As expected of his namesake, Bleak, for his weak tail, it took a rare feeling to incense his tail-fire. One question fueled the fire. Who would be punished? He burned with curiosity.

He went onto his belly and took the other way around the inn, away from grownups. He slithered to the corner, and peeked around.

Four score villagers had gathered in front of the inn. They waited on a stoutland with yellow padding to speak. As the village filed in, so did it become quieter—when the twin linoone arrived, the stoutland turned to face them, and everyone spared an eye for the young Punisher. Brown-belly tried to sit on his haunches, pitched forward too fast, and ended up exposing his belly. No one laughed.

"W-We canvassed everything, commander," Cream-belly called, managing to sit up-unlike his brother. "All villagers should be accounted for. We can proceed with announcing the Punished."

The stoutland stayed silent a few moments longer.

"Don't tell me I can proceed. My order alone proceeds this ceremony."

"Allworthy!" Brown-belly cried. "It's understood. We cannot proceed."

The stoutland growled. "You two are twins who threw away their wits rather than share them."

 _How does he just ignore a crowd like that?_ Bleak wondered. _To a Punisher, I imagine we must look like livestock. It must be annoying having to tell us anything at all._ He remembered Aiyee, napping nearby, and took a deep breath.

"Does anyone have any questions before we begin?" Allworthy asked.

"Where in Giratina's wretched pitch is the Bonecrusher?" Somebody asked. If they had a body to their voice, they hid it well among the rambling.

"The Bonecrusher and his company have been reassigned," the stoutland answered. "We will take over their duties, and recruiting members for our own company.

Silence. A nervous itch spread through the meeting, several looked at Allworthy's first recruits, the two linoone. A watchog stirred the air with his paw. His tail went rigid.

"M-My child is in his company... where are they going?"

The stoutland, who had nerves of steel against the crowd, remained stoic in his response. "As you might know, there is a rebellion in Roake. The Dukes chose the Bonecrusher to intermediate. To _parley_."

Right away, the watchog moaned. "You've sent my child off to _war._ "

Bleak learned the word 'war' from Sixburrow's butcher, Ghutz, and his profession suited him as he described it to not just him, but the several other children he wanted to scare. War wasn't to scrap or hunt after mundane animals. Commanders placed pokémon against each other in things called 'formation.' When the order to attack boomed out the pokémon charged. Pokémon. Claw, fang, sometimes bodies of rock or even bladed. Some pokémon, in spite of the ban on magic, managed to quicken their abilities-and there were no bans in war, Ghutz told them. Lava which melted flesh, poison which did so inside out, vines traveling fast enough to concuss a fully grown adult (and shatter the skull of pernicious children who begged for scraps). All at once, these powers clashed in a mas of chaos. And one's life could end in seconds without an answer as to where or how. In war, it wasn't unseen for the toll to approach one-hundred pokémon _a battle_. All splayed out on a field... about as many bodies as there were gathered right now in the village's center. Blood enough to fill Sixburrow's creek. An unforgettable stink.

An uproar started. Villagers roared. Whether their children were in the Bonecrusher's company or not, they pleaded for mercy. _War, war, war._ It was the one word in the air.

Allworthy planted his paws and took a breath. Bleak hunched down instinctively, covering his head.

**_"Eno-oo-ugh!_ "**

Bleak shuddered. A ringing persisted in his ears long after the roar subsided. It was a magical roar-Bleak could feel it inside his head, still rolling his brains over and over and over. He thought he might become sick and vomit. A sway went through all the stunned pokémon, even the sturdiest weren't spared.

Allworthy stuck his snout into the air, then doubled over his own paws and slammed into the railing on the stairs. Using such magic had to take a toll. "Fools, it will _be_ war if the Roaken think attacking would give them the upper hand."

Juk went onto his hind legs.

"You there, in the back."

"What about the phantom?" He asked. "T-There's a phantom hiding under the inn. I saw it with my own eyes, lurking, waiting for a chance to snatch us up. Let's Punish it instead! It h-has me so on edge."

Bleak snorted. _That explains his overreaction to Aiyee. But not the lack of guilt._ It was such an inane idea, a cloaked pokémon turned tail (though this turned tail was bundled under the rag he drew over himself) and left. _Who was that_? Bleak wondered. _It's morbid... but what if they call his name?_

A bibarel raised a paw. "I object! There is no such monster living under my inn. What a nasty rumor."

Allworthy sat down while the rabble argued. Two camps formed: one believed in the phantom, whereas the majority gave the idea so much disdain that Cream-and-Brown bellies once again had to keep the peace. It was an excellent idea. To forcibly volunteer a monster for Punishment. Maybe a little dreamy. Bleak racked his brains.

There had been, where he clawed, a patchwork job of wood. Not different at all, just old-smelling—with a large mound of unsettled snow, which was probably why Aiyee nodded off there.

 _Do I tell them?_ _No,_ _no way there's something there._

"Enough!" Allworthy roared. The crowd fell silent. "Does this phantom have a... corporeal semblance?"

"Yes!" Said one of the aye-group. "A gabite. Big enough to chomp heads off a herd of tauros. Not _a head at a time_ , mind ya, it's big enough to chomp 'em all at once."

"Oh," the bibarel cried, "just a moment ago, you didn't see it. Now you know what it looks like, Tabatha. A gabite under my inn. Preposterous."

"A mienshao spirit," Juk said. "I swear to die if I lie."

"Then drop dead, you worthless fleabag!" The innkeep shouted.

Further arguing was cut short by another roar.

"You all need to travel more," Allworthy said. "Go out and see some real phantoms, learn what it means to be wary of shadows which actually fight back. Nasfereet, just deliver the news already. My head aches."

A weavile came to the brink of the stairs. "Understood."

All held their breath. The name they announced was doomed. Doomed to wander into Sixburrow Woods to die, by what, only Arceus knew. And a few days later the cold weather would relent and Spring might arrive, such was the power of the Punishments in their disasters and their rewards. A few years ago, none of it made sense together, and now, Bleak was in awe of it all. He was scared.

Nasfereet breathed in. "As for now, the orb we use to determine the next Punished is broken. It will be fixed tomorrow."

"You can't be serious," Bleak said out loud.

"Whazzat, Bleak?"

The charmander yelped and spun around. There sat Aiyee, tail brushing the snow. And a padded friend sitting beside. Aiyee brought a Punisher.

"The snow melted onto my fur and I smell like wet dog," he said. "Thanks for waking me up."

Bleak gestured to the luxio by his side.

"Oh? This is Lumen. He's a Punisher, but not a scary or dangerous one, I think. Someone yelled _eno-oo-ugh_ and woke me up. And there he was waiting, I guess."

The luxio performed a faux-bow for the charmander. "Hiya!"

Bleak recoiled. "I-I'm sorry for spying on the event."

"I'm not too much older than you two," Lumen said. "Maybe a year or three. And I had a denmother too. So I get wanting to know."

Aiyee's eyes lit up. "He said he's in the company of a big fella named the _Bonecrusher_." The name weaseled a shake out of the charmander. Why would someone pick such an awful name?

Lumen nodded. "They sent me to help out the commander stopping by your village. Really, a lot of us—who have denmothers—end up getting accepted into the ranks of Punishers."

Bleak's mouth opened a little. "Really..." one day, he could be a charmeleon fitted with green leather, a centipede made of red paint-the Punisher emblem-resting in the pad's corner. Moving village to village. Helping pokémon in need, Bleak realized, like the two linoone.

"It might not be so bad," Aiyee added. "They eat a lot of yummy food, and bathe often, and learn how to fight."

The poochyena's smile was contagious. Near the inn, the commotion had wound down. Everyone finally accepted there wouldn't be a Punished for the time being.

"But all of that leaves no time for play," Lumen said distractedly, peering over the charmander. "Say. I have some time before I need to report back. Have either of you played in the forest before?"

 _Denmother would string us up by our feet_ , Bleak thought. _Wash us off in boiling broth._ "N-No..."

"I can make it safe. It's so much fun—come play with me!"

 _I guess being a Punisher isn't so awful, if you still want to play_. _At the very least, Aiyee is happy._

But now, his brother's head was cocked, and his eyes were focused.

"Um... nah," Aiyee said.

Lumen pouted, shaking the star at the end of his tail. "Aw! Why not?"

"I don't wanna go into the forest with you. I want to go home."

The luxio smiled. "You really have a head on your shoulders, poochyena. Mulling it over, it's not smart at all to leave. Maybe if we see each other again, when you're bigger?"

Aiyee grinned. "Sure! We have to be going back now. Come on, Bleak."

They spun around, in the direction of home, and scampered off. Bleak noticed Aiyee as he ran. The cut behind his ear from Juk's beating-it had completely healed, leaving behind the flakes of a scab.

"See you two around!" Lumen called after them.

~~0~~

* * *

 _Creak_.

Bleak was so startled he threw the thing nearest to him. Right then, it happened to be _Fables of the Grass Continent,_ which often become his blanket. The thick anthology of stories smacked right into Aiyee's side.

"Watch out," the poochyena mumbled. He kicked Bleak's foot. The charmander shot up, smothering a yelp. "Go left... I'll beat up Dialga... you fix the gears..."

 _Still dreaming about those stories_ , Bleak thought, amused. _I wonder who's the human in our pair._ Less amusing: the creak he heard was unusual. After having lived half his life in this home and learning the sounds pokémon chose to make in it, Bleak knew the single creak, likely from the door, was a protest to being opened in a way it never had before. _Slowly._ In a house rushed by obligations and young whelps, no one ever took their time to nudge open the door.

He stepped over a few of his siblings. Trixie, the lillipup who got trampled, had a sprained paw. Moonlight made another wound—a bite mark—visible.

 _I can't believe our own village did this_. _I wish I was quickened like the old heroes, then I'd roast them with magical fire._

He went into the hallway. There was a shadow inspecting the kitchen. Bleak dove behind a stack of boxes, brimming with rations for this month. There was a lot to knock over, like some leeks hanging over the edge or the boxes themselves, but Bleak managed to slither into position without a sound. He was getting good at hiding. If only he played hide-and-seek with his siblings, they'd be in total awe. He hugged his tail to keep its light from going down the hall. The fire did not harm him.

For a brief flash, it occurred to Bleak that he was meeting the Phantom. The figure was familiar, though. _Nasfereet_ the weavile _._ Right-hand to the commander. He had used a magic orb in an attempt to choose someone's death. He played with denmother's stirring spoon.

"Hey!" A voice hissed.

A delcatty pattered into the room. Denmother. She looked pampered. Which was why Bleak missed a box of meat in his hiding spot. The lilac shampoo drifted all the way down the hall.

"Ah." Nasfereet set down the spoon. "Thank you for meeting with me tonight. I comprehend the enormous duty of raising these children, and what it means to give up sleep for me."

She purred. "Denmothers are a part of Atlas, too, you know. We've got to come together to keep things pretty."

"Well put. Which is why I'm here. I believe together, we can help drag this village out of its slump, rather than bury it a few inches deeper. It won't be easy or feel good, but in the end, it will give this place a year of much-needed respite."

She fidgeted. "Oh, I thought you were here because... never mind. Listen, you said you understand me, so know I can't go carrying the village on my shoulders."

"You're the pair of shoulders who can," Nasfereet said. "Because the denmother takes care of the children no one else cares for."

Bleak inched forward.

Nasfereet laid a claw on her shoulder. "You're the pokémon that, if she were to say one of the den siblings ran away, no one would care enough to mistrust you."

Bleak shuddered. _What?!_

Denmother snarled. "W-What are you saying? I ought to report you to... to _someone!_ "

"Look at the facts," Nasfereet said, speaking quickly. "Every year one of the able-bodied, learned pokémon get Punished, meaning that there is one less contributor while a bunch of mouths-and-stomachs with no value and no real trade-skills get by for free. Yes, you love them, of course you do or you wouldn't be a denmother, so through compassion you must ask: how many of these children have futures? The worthless children will hear your promises to the talented ones. They will grow up miserable wondering why they can't do anything right. They'll blame you, you _bad Denmother._ "

He clutched the delcatty. She wiggled weakly.

"Look at the facts," he repeated, "not of this decision but of those facts inside of yourself, now. I bet you pretty up for any noteworthy stranger or—to the disgust of your village, they're too stupid to understand-Punishers who stroll in. You're eager to rope a mate into helping with the children. You dream of a real family, but disguise it as a matter of life, a way to make things easier. Yet, right now, I can promise you a step forward to your dream of a family without that disguise! Because... while you may not have the mate yet, you can work on the children. Give the hopeless ones up to Arceus. So you look less like charity and more like family. When a mate sees her mother and a den full of healthy whelps. Your other children may have what they lost—a family. All it takes to start is choosing a whelp for Punishment."

"Have what they lost," denmother echoed. "I could be… mother."

 _No, no!_ Bleak clenched the wooden box. There was magic in the air. The weavile had hypnotized denmother!

"I'll do it," she whispered.

_Denmother..._

Nasfereet breathed for the first time in a while. "Perfect. We need to act fast: which child would be missed least?"

The charmander stopped breathing.

"I... well, there is a pair—"

And his heart stopped.

"—named Aiyee and Bleak. Bleak is so aloof, except for Aiyee keeping him company. They keep to themselves mostly."

"So, one of those two? Is this Aiyee a good choice?"

"No, no. Aiyee is level-headed and quite strong. Bleak, though—"

He began to step away. His tail unfurled. It could give him away if they saw it. Except he didn't care.

"-almost died last winter. It got bad, because the Punishment was late and blizzards started. And after his sickness… he became even more introverted. He carves figurines all day with a knife he loves to hide. I… yes. O-Okay then."

The weavile nodded solemnly. "I need to hear you make this choice out loud if I am to trust you."

"...Punish Bleak."

Bleak was gone. His body seemed to move without him. He picked up _Fables of the Grass Continent._ Hugged it. Curled over and fell asleep on it, as if nothing ever happened. Those last words rang out in the old house.

_**Punish Bleak.** _

It was the same as learning he would die tomorrow afternoon.

~~0~~

* * *

**In a world known for heroes and villains,**

**How does it survive evil born from necessity?**

**PUNISHMENTS: SPIRIT CHILDREN**


	2. Those who Hide under Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I usually (excitedly) post what amount to first drafts, I pretty much always come back to fix mistakes in previous chapters. There was a lack of crucial info. Here's the summary for those who read the first chapter before this chapter was published:
> 
> -Commander Allworthy is taking over for the Bonecrusher, whose group is going to Roake (in rebellion) to squash resistance to the Punishers.
> 
> -When it is time to go back home, Aiyee's cut from earlier is healed.

Morning came, and Aiyee came to rouse Bleak. He yipped and spilled over the charmander. Bleak was already awake and shrugged off the heavy dog.

"Morning, Bleak!" He pretended to hear some noise and folded his ear. "Ouch, loudred's at it again. Let's hurry to the guild hall."

Make-believe. The phrase echoed in his head. All these games seemed so awkward and confusing, it took everything he had not to imagine all the pokémon who saw them blunder around, acting like heroes and roaring like idiots. He wanted to rake cuts into his head out of shame.

The charmander smiled. "Where is everyone?"

"I-dunno. All our guild-mates went on exploration missions in Sixburrow, I guess."

"I thought they were in the guild hall," Bleak said. Continuity wasn't Aiyee's best talent. It took him time to piece together a story. A story involving a dungeon. A fib to tell denmother when they were caught out late. The reason for someone close leaving in a hurry to never return. Then it came again, that urge to claw his head.

Aiyee's snout shot up, pointing to the roof. "Er, uh... right! They just left while we talked. We took too long. Let's go to the Hidden Springs. I heard you can find treasure there."

 _In the fables, the heroes get there through a flooded tunnel. That'd probably kill me._ This time, Bleak only chuckled and rubbed his eyes. "Enough make-believe, Aiyee. I don't feel like it right now."

The poochyena inched in, sniffing. He leaped back, belly low to the ground. "Okay. Let's go beg and pick goodies out of the snow."

He wanted to lie down and do nothing. But Aiyee didn't deserve the sight of him on the floor giving up. "I can't. Do you mind helping me pack, Aiyee?"

"Where're we going?"

Bleak wondered. "No, just me."

Aiyee's tail stopped wagging. "Oh. Is it a short trip? Who planned it?"

 _Might as well tell him Bleak, he'll keep pestering you otherwise._ "I'm getting Punished," Bleak replied cheerfully, going over to the chest. He was glad Denmother had the decency for this—if she wanted, Aiyee could have been sent to Sixburrow while the weavile snatched him away. These last moments tortured him.

The word Punished brought a loud yipe out of the dog. "Not funny!" He barked, blocking the charmander's path. "You must be having nightmares because I let you watch the Punishers yesterday. I'm sorry." Bleak walked over to his wicker trunk. He pulled out a rucksack flattened on the bottom. "Ahem. Sorry," Aiyee said again. Bleak tried on the rucksack, slipping it over his arms and testing the feel. It used to be his father's, before he evolved into a charizard and the straps became too small. On Bleak, they were a bit big. Altogether, the bag felt right. "Bleak, I'm apologizing when I didn't do anything wrong." Aiyee frowned. "You've gotta stop me."

"The way I see it," Bleak replied, "Denmother has given me a grace period. Time to enjoy your company before she sends you off and Nasfereet—the Punisher—snatches me from the room."

Aiyee planted his paws, with sudden, determined eyes. "I'd like to see this Nasfereet try." It was obvious in his glare: he knew this wasn't make-believe anymore.

"Then Denmother will run into village saying I ran away. Odds are—" he grunted, fastening the rucksack's straps—"she'll say I left to find my father. I took a bad path and ended up walking straight into the Sixburrow Punishment. How was I supposed to know the totem outside of it wasn't marking the trail? I'm a runt."

"They can't hurt you. It's not allowed, you said so." Aiyee stomped his forepaws. "No one will believe her anyway. You're too smart to walk into a Punishment."

"The weavile explained it. The village will be too happy I died instead to ask how I died." Bleak picked up his hobby knife. He took a single look at the blade, frowned, and wrapped it in a rag. Some savior it turned out to be. Another gift from father. "Also... orphans are mostly useless to the village. Me being the best example. I stayed up all night arguing in my head. I can't beat the reasoning. All I have defending me are laws. Laws every pokémon hates." He wanted to be adored again, like when mother was around.

Aiyee sighed. "This all worries me."

Bleak stifled a chortle. _This all worries me._ "It worries me too. I'll go in with my eyes forward and my tail-file blazing. My father wouldn't want to see me begging for my life. Did you know he was a mercenary?"

Aiyee laid down. "Yeah. A mean, stinky one. You told me."

 _Why is he settling down?_ Bleak wondered.

"He nearly drowned me. And afterwards, he renamed me Bleak, because my tail couldn't handle a bit of water. I'm a runt." The charmander sighed. "A week after my mother got Punished..." he wiped at his eyes, putting a wood block into the rucksack. For carving later. "Father asked me, _who do you love more, mother or me_? I answered _mother_. He took it as my wanting revenge, so he abandoned me to get some." Bleak quit packing. He sat down. "He might be in Roake. About to fight in a war to honor her. I wanted him with me—it's just, I... mom died a week ago. It all felt so new." He covered his eyes. "I never assert myself. I was alone in that house for five days, and not once did I ever go outside to ask around for my father. I'm pathetic! I'm... damn it, Aiyee, can you at least cry?"

Aiyee grinned and wrapped himself around his sibling. "The more I tell you not to, the more you'll want to sacrifice yourself. Like the heroes. They're great, but they're always saying oh, let me perish so you may survive!"

The charmander half-sobbed, half-chuckled and slapped Aiyee's side. "Stop talking about those stupid heroes, or I'll claw your eyes out."

"You want me to exhaust every option helping you. So I don't blame myself like I do with my mother. Bleak, you're in a pile of dookie so I understand why you did it, but... that's sort of underhanded. You always over-think things when you're sad."

"I'm going to die. I'm more than sad. I... I don't know how to leave you behind."

"Stop making such a big deal out of it."

Bleak choked on a sob. "H-Huh?"

"You had me going for a moment with the Punishment stuff." Aiyee pushed his snout against Bleak's trunk and threw his weight forward. It slid right under the window. "All we need to do is leave here."

"We..." it would be very useless to say we can't escape. Bleak had suspected Aiyee would try and convince him. He didn't foresee the poochyena's antics winning him over. "The window doesn't open far enough. Wait, no," he said, changing his mind, "we can't esc—"

With a devious snarl, the dog headbutted the glass. Bleak yelped at the thunderous noise. Cracks formed throughout the dirty pane. "What did you say? I can't you hear you over the... _gah, ringing in my ea-aa-rs_. Woo, that smarts!" He let out a squeal and wiggled gleefully. One for He poked out shards of glass. They had an escape now. "Let's go before Denmother comes to check out the noise."

"N-No way..."

"Maybe you are useless. Whatever. They can't steal your future. So many pokémon fought for your right to it, y'know?" Aiyee nodded, chest swollen, eyes pointed. Light reflected off the broken glass, leaving the poochyena's fur glossy. "We can't leave the world like this. Today, we set out to fix it."

To run away from the place he called home—Bleak swallowed hard. It had been a full day since he last slept and he had to wonder if this impacted his judgment.

Bleak slipped the straps of the rucksack over his shoulders. Aiyee leaped through the window.

"Jump far or you'll hit glass—ah! A Punisher!"

Silence.

Bleak's heart stopped. It was the weavile, Nasfereet. He came at the same time they attempted to flee. It was over, all over—"

"It's Lumen!" Aiyee yipped. It really was the luxio waiting outside their window. Bleak looked down, too stunned to respond. _Is he a part of this plan?_ He thought. _No, because he's with the Bonecrusher. I don't think the weavile would be able to convince him to break the rules._

"Hey," Lumen said. "It's as I feared, if you two are breaking windows."

Aiyee gave him a toothy grin. "Lumen, we were going to run away, but now we can tell on them instead! One of your friends is trying to Punish Bleak. You have to—"

"I know, I know." Lumen growled. "I followed him last night and heard everything. They were going to pretend you ran away. I thought I could stomach being a Punisher... but... but apparently, I can't. I didn't even know I was to be sent out to Roake. I didn't know things like this went on behind the scenes." He sniffled. "I'm scared, to be honest." Then he regained his confidence. "If we tell everyone else, Nasfereet will pull rank and say we're making up stories. So I came here first and knocked out your Denmother to open a way out."

"Wait, what?" Aiyee snarled. "Hey... that's not okay."

"Sorry. It was to ensure she didn't tattle. I had no choice."

Bleak nodded. "I understand. Still.."

"Let's all run away together. Into the forest, out the other end, all the way to Treasure Town on the coast. I have training, so bandits and ferals are no problem!"

 _With a fighter on our side,_ Bleak thought, _we might make it. We might pull this off!_ The charmander gave an honest smile and hopped down, into the snow. The window was too high to scrabble back in. "Let's do it Aiyee, all three of us."

Aiyee turned his head to the side. "We'll go it on our own, thanks."

Lumen's eyes widened. "You won't last long without me, it's dangerous."

"We can take care of ourselves."

The luxio looked over to Bleak. "We don't have time for this. Whatever problem your friend has with me, we can figure it out later."

Bleak reluctantly nodded. "Aiyee, it will be fine. He's already risked everything by challenging the weavile."

Aiyee sniffed, then let out a puff of air. "Fine." The smile returned. "Come on, Bleak. Let's go explore!" And the three of them set out towards the forest.

 

* * *

While the children fled, hunger drove a stag into a barren clearing.

Knots of spindly twigs lined the edges of the clearing. These were called shrubs, once. Even bilberry shrubs, always the last to die, had died. Vestige hadn't grown in months. Winter had weeks left to torture the stag.

He brayed with frustration. He gnawed on twigs. Their cloying texture challenged his knotted stomach. There had to be more, something left to forage. If there was nothing on this fourth day of foraging, the stag wouldn't have the strength to reach the fifth.

His hooves pounded a snow-mound. Nothing. A sad bray.

Another try, this time into some snow packed around a tree stump. A green strap tangled itself around his hoof. He ripped his leg out of the snag, dragging a satchel made of fine deer-leather into the open. Silver twinkled from an opened part of its flap; the lid of a compass. It was a warning. One a mundane animal couldn't understand. And some hardtack. He took it into his mouth all at once, along with the surrounding snow—to help it go down.

The stag knew nothing of luck. Yet he knew, somehow, he pushed his luck by keeping on. And he kept on anyway, hungry for more hardtack.

Left of the bag was a grave-like pile. There next, there next, his stomach begged. All the digging might attract predators. The stag didn't care anymore; this won over eating twigs.

Two strikes into the new pile exposed a new scent. It was like wood left out in the sun... simmering, not burnt, with intensity enough to make him snort. Bad luck. He kept on. He drummed into the pile with newfound eagerness. A muffled clop told him he had hit something. He stooped over to see his prize. Perhaps more hardtack—

(A vicious blue predator exploded out from the snow, the motion shooting out bits of ice which peppered his face, blinding him just when the predator started to make her move, falling into the motion of a swing and in the stag's mind, so straightforward and wise not just in forests predators but these extra-dangerous ones, any attempt to understand what was happening failed, and the stress of trying popped a vessel in his right eye, a red sea spreading through the eyeball while his good eye rolled over to investigate a lack of wind as the blow came up to meet his head. He brayed into the breathless air and the predator's spike came up to meet his cry.)

The blow took him off his feet and into the air. He touched ground again an instant later, legs twisted underneath him. All he felt and knew was the pain in his skull and right eye. What did he want? Food?

The predator sniffled as she rose back to her feet. Her eyes caught those of its meal's, and stayed there until the snow on its pelt fell away. After a better look at the competition, the outcome of the attack was obvious. This six-hundred pound animal stood no chance against a pokémon.

The lucario could look over the stag's back when it was standing, and towered over it now that it lay bleeding. She cocked her head to the side and closed the gap. She heaved in and out, churning the air like steam over a geiser. Puffs of smoke filled the air.

The stag looked up at her.

"You scared me," she said.

It slumped over.

She threw the corpse over her shoulders. The massive weight proved to be too much, so she sidled around and dragged it instead. "How will I eat you?" She shook her head. "I usually have a close friend cook for me, you know. He's gone on to look for someone. I haven't eaten raw food in forever." She waved a paw. "Of course, I have to make use of your whole body. I have a lot of respect for animals. Paws said that. Always respect animals. They're creatures too."

The tracks from the deer's legs brushed over the dimples made by her toes. She paused—as though her prey could object to small talk. "It's funny. I was sound asleep until you kicked me in the head. Maybe it's not so funny for you... where am I dragging you to, anyway?" There wasn't anywhere to go.

She threw the stag down and plopped backward into the snow. Her feet were long and thick, the boniness typical to her breed covered by muscle. Only her toes touched the ground when she stood. When she sat down, she sat like a dog would. "I see now," she whispered. A paw moved back and forth over the deer's ribs. "You didn't have much choice."

The crackle of a broken rib caused her to pull back.

"I know it's weird to talk to animals. More advice from Paws. I bet you'd like to give me an earful, but you can't!" She smiled naughtily. If her friend was here, she'd never hear the end of this. The whole scene looked a little crazy "My name is Lu. Loo: two letters. Isn't it a nifty name?" She wondered out loud, wiping blood from the spike on her arm. "Lu is a nickname for my species, lucario."

 **The** stag said nothing.

"I'm waiting for my friend, Tobi. He's really funny. He makes me wear a ribbon..." the goldenrod ribbon she showed him was now bloodied from the struggle. "Because other Sents that see us think we're together, and that he's the girl." No answer. "Isn't that funny?" Surprisingly, for a third time, there was no answer. "Gah, this is boring too!" Conversations were boring when only one member could actually speak.

Lu abandoned her kill and roamed about the clearing. Over the last day or so, she'd walked around it enough to form a rut. It had to be covered up every night—it was very troublesome. It was basic hunter's instinct to hide evidence of one's presence. "He could be in trouble. Tobi went out to investigate a village. What if they figured him out?" It was empty talk. Tobi had outsmarted Punishers a million ways. Still, the idea of it made Lu's eyes misty. The idea of parting without a goodbye left her afraid.

The struggle had exposed the rest of Tobi's satchel, hidden under snow. Lu walked over and took the compass. Touching it reminded her of Tobi's scrappy voice.

 _"This isn't a toy you can gnaw on,"_ he told her jokingly.

In the case that he didn't return, he had left it adjusted. She only needed to match the arrow on the compass to the one on the glass. That would lead her West-northwest to Sixburrow. For a sizable town it did well for itself, even during the Winter. The place had an excellent creek, and Lu never passed up a chance to swim.

A brief trip to Sixburrow wouldn't hurt. The original settlement had six burrowing animals living together in one place. Not it was a bustling place, full of pokémon, full of danger. "I should go check on him, Stag."

"Won't be necessary, Lu."

Lu nearly broke the compass as she toppled over herself. For a moment Lu thought the stag had finally started to talk back. Yet it wasn't a stag: it was Tobi the braixen! The rugged look gave her pause. But a single look at his face and all his delicate features were accounted for. The deadness of the forest shunned his bright colors. He wore a ragged cloak.

"Tobi!" She ran forward to embrace him.

He struggled to keep her at bay. "Spikes, Lu... remember the spikes... oh." Along with the fangs on her arms, Lu had one more jutting from the chest. He cared mostly about the bloodied one. "Lu," he said, spotting the mess. "We don't have time for to eat this."

Tobi sounded strange. Tired, yet also anxious, in a happy way. Like he could hardly stand that he had to rest before unloading the news of his adventure.

"I promised I'd eat him," Lu said. "What's the rush?"

"I found him."

"What?! That's great! Where is he—"

"News of him. Sorry."

Her ears flopped. "Not, uh, the news I'm thinking of."

Tobi managed a smile. He looked more than tired—deprived of sleep. Worse-off than just the normal anxiety. "In the village, I came about a rumor. There's a phantom in Sixburrow."

Lu tried her best to nod along. "Wow, a phantom. You're onto something."

"Lu, don't patronize me."

"I'm not!"

"Things line up. First, the Punishers stationed here are all being sent off to Roake. You were right about him heading to the middle of the continent."

Now she perked up. Tobi and his adopted sibling Maga were sons of Duke Willard, ruler of the Continent of Grass. One son went on to command the Punishers of Roake, a large island within Duke Willard's boundaries, and the other son saved himself from the same fate.

"Roake was liberated," Lu said, recounting the events, "Maga escaped confinement and immediate Punishment for failing to hold the island. He would want to head inland to ingratiate himself again. Things are simpler here. Things might work out in your brother's favor if he gets lucky."

Tobi looked away. "Don't call him my brother, Lu. He's not." She gave him a funny look. This was a tremendous amount of hubbub over a not-brother. "I can't imagine... Maga reduced to living under inns and begging to fight in some war." He took his wand from his tail and squeezed it hard. A small flame grew. His way of venting anger. "I waited all night outside the inn. At any time I could have said something. I burned the night away staring. I can't get in there during the day, not with Punishers nearby. He'll cause a scene when he sees me."

He leaned against Lu, sighing heavily. She smiled and patted his back—his fur felt finer than silk, but the muscle underneath had drawn tight. Anxiety was destroying him from inside.

"I wish we could go back to when Maga and I were dancers. Lu. This whole search has been a confident step into shit. It might be time to quit."

Lu shook her head. "No way this ends here. Let me nab him for you. Under the inn, right?" Unlike Tobi, she had no problems with Punishers. A long chain of disasters caused by her made sure there were no problems. And how she, too, was once a part of their web, a Punisher with a slightly different purpose. Until circumstances forced her to choose Atlas and its Punishers or Tobi's life. And so she kidnapped the prince.

He nodded. "Lu, you really don't have to. I'm indebted to you too much as it is."

"One day you'll repay the favor," Lu said, grinning.

Tobi licked his paw and rubbed Lu's shoulder. "You'll need to be presentable." The wet blood came off with a few scrubs.

She frowned. "The Punishers who watch over this land," she said, "are they still led by a pokémon named the Bonecrusher?"

"There were none there because of the transition... are they bad?"

"Maybe. It was a long time ago, and not my issue, but I've heard about incidents with the Bonecrusher."

"Dangerous things?"

"No, nothing absolute. They're suspicious. Paws told me so." She licked her chops. "He said they're like me... when I hide under the snow."


End file.
